


Lanterns

by Werecakes



Category: TMNT (2007), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types, Usagi Yojimbo
Genre: Actor Mikey, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Black smith Raphael, Broken, Donatello slowly opens up, Drama, General Leo - Freeform, Honor Bound, Hurt/Comfort, I strive for happy endings, Inventor Donnie, Leo's trying to get his wife back, Love, M/M, Raph'll die before he gives up on finding Mikey, Rescue, Samurai Usagi, Things will work out, Traveling, True Love, Trust, Usagi tries to be a good husband, bear with me, bearers are what the turtles call omegas, ninshin are what usagi's people call omegas, omegas are basically the women, past trauma, this story is hard to write, trying to save loved ones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-04-29 22:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14482428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werecakes/pseuds/Werecakes
Summary: Widowed during a war Donatello and Michelangelo are captured and sent as slaves to foreign land. Separated and alone, Donatello is sold to a samurai, Miyamoto Usagi, as a Lantern. A slave meant for giving affection in a society where affection is considered inappropriate. To preserve his honor, Usagi weds Donatello. A wife once more, Donnie follows his husband on the roads of Japan. Little does he know of the dangers they are to encounter, bandits, assassins, ninja, monsters, spirits, and the terrifying Blade of the Gods, Jei.All the while, thought dead, Leonardo and Raphael cross land and sea to get their beloved wives back.An Alpha/Omega story!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This took me forever to write. I'm not used to period pieces, nor anything like this.   
> Bearers = What the turtles call their omegas  
> Ninshin = What Usagi's people call omegas

The paint was always cold. The flow of the brush tickled leaving behind a slight itch on his eyelids. He held still as the purple mask was tied tightly over his eyes, the tails pulled up into intricate knots that would hold the headdress in place. His obi was layered and tightened until it was uncomfortable forcing his back as straight as it could be. As usual the people dressing him had to layer the back piece with different colored cloths with their unusual patterns trying to cover up his “shame” as they had put it. His husband had loved his “shame”, ran his fingers over the scoots of his shell following the swirling rivers of patterns. But his husband was dead, killed in the very war that had taken him to this foreign land, forced into an unsavory business of slavery. 

The tall mammal behind him reached around to pinch his cheeks hard enough to bruise, trying to get some red onto his olive colored skin. He didn’t flinch, used to the physical abuse. He stared back at the small mirror nailed to the wooden wall of the large cart he was in. The emotionless gaze that he saw would have broken his husband’s heart, broken him as much as Donatello was broken. Everything taken from him, so much pain inflicted, violently robbed of everything, even his dignity. All he had left were his memories of a happier time, memories that he rarely touched upon. They held no refuge for him, only reminded him of how cruel fate can be. By this time he had learned that this country were full of people that cared for nothing but themselves, atrocities were common place, and no matter where he went pain would pelt down on him like hail from a vicious storm. It resulted in Donatello not caring if he was sold to a new master or not. It wouldn’t change the fact that his life was completely ruined. He had no family, his husband murdered on the battlefield, his best friend sold months ago. His treatment under these foreigners had broken him completely. There were no more tears to shed over the pain and humiliation. No more anger to rage against the violations and shame. There was nothing more left in him, he was hollow.

The back of the wagon opened up, he was ushered out with others of his kind, turtle Bearers that were stolen from their homes, raped and beaten into submission just like himself. They lined up in the early morning light, straw woven mats were laid down in front of them. They knelt, arranging their kimono sleeves to rest carefully at their sides. Their geta slippers were taken away to discourage them from running. Now all he had to do was wait for potential buyers to come.

\------------------------  
The Previous Day  
\------------------------

Usagi wasn’t pleased by Lord Yamato’s move. Directly gifting him a Lantern only because he was a good blade on the battlefield. It wasn’t as if he had been deliberately trying to get praise. He was only doing his duty to his Lord Mifune. When his master had fallen in battle, like many other samurai, Usagi had decided to dedicate himself to the art of betterment, his Musha Shugyo, or warrior’s pilgrimage. Without a family to return home to, no Ninshin to comfort his woes or a child to focus his attention on he found it best to become a Ronin. This, in itself, had created a problem. It would seem that word of his bravery on the battlefield had spread farther than he had anticipated, especially the Battle of Moss River in particular. He could still remember the green skin of his enemies, split open and bleeding painting the ground red. When he closed his eyes at night he could still see the hard gaze of one warrior in particular. He could still remember his voice. Usagi shifted where he sat. That battle held great shame for him though it perked the ears of many Lords and gained him much prestige. If they could have him among their ranks it would give much to their power. Usagi was thankful that many of their previous lords that he had encountered simply did not know who he was. This made his travels easier but now… Yamato, the rotund bear, sat lazily his uchwa fanning his round face. He had somehow heard of Usagi’s approach to the lands that he owned. Arranged for his guards to intercept the wanderer so that he would be brought to the man’s mansion.

He had politely refused the hospitality of the Lord until he was certain there would be a problem of insult unless he accepted. During his stay he was introduced to Hanako, Yamato’s Ninshin child. He was small, petite, with pretty black fur that matched his dark alluring eyes. He was polite at the beginning, quiet and oddly attentive. The action had made Usagi suspicious. It only solidified his doubts of the Lord’s “good intentions” when his Ninishon son was left unattended, alone with Usagi. This action would easily bring forth rumors of illicit affairs. To provent this the samurai would quickly remove himself from any private setting as to preserve not only his own but Hanako’s honor. At these times, when they were alone, he would catch a true glimpse of Hanako’s true persona. A snappish, needy creature that wanted things his way. He had no qualms with slapping a servant in front of Usagi. 

The crime? Being late to serve tea.

“Why would you do that?” Usagi glared at the small bear.

“People like that are not sophisticated like you or I. They act and think like beasts, it is only appropriate that we treat them the same as a lame mule. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Usagi had tried to leave after that. He didn’t want to deal with the mistreatment of others unless he could stop it. As it was he could not. He was within a Lord’s manor, surrounded by those loyal to him. If Usagi spoke out and tried to interfere with the workings of those that owned these lands, he could easily find himself in jail or worse. Telling the Lord that his hospitality was most gracious and how he had to leave for a prior engagement allowed him to slip away. Though he had spoken a little white lie as he was not expected by anyone, Usagi found it to be a forgivable one and was glad to be back on the road. 

Mysteriously, when he had reached the outskirts of one of the farms that Yamato owned there had been an attack back at the town he had just been staying in. A large scale of bandits had come rushing in, robbing shops, killing any who stood in their way. The Lord’s men were holding them back but they needed help. A messenger had been sent to find him and bring him to help with the battle. Of course he hurried back, mounting onto the horse behind the messenger. At the time it had seemed the right thing to do. After all, he had an obligation to help those who could not help themselves and there were many innocent people back in that town.

When he arrived he jumped off the horse, unsheathed his sword and went forth into the frey. Something about the battle seemed off. It was too large of scale for such little damage. Then there were how the bandits fought it made everything clear to the samurai. These “bandits” were either hired farmers or hired thugs. There were few casualties for something that he was told was brutal which had resulted in him coming in the first place.

Now, now he was properly seated across from Yamato. The man had his Ninishin child properly seated to his side and his heir on the other, who had a striking similarity to his father with rich brown fur and golden eyes. Hanako must have taken after their Ninshin parent who was not present. 

Yamato made a powerful move. It was forcing Usagi into a corner.

The gift of a Lantern for his heroism.

It would be dishonorable for him to refuse such an expensive gift. It would be dishonorable to accept it. He was single, it would be dishonorable to have a Lantern without having a Ninshin sibling or a wife present in order to keep one’s reputation good. Him, without either, word would spread. Lies would be seeded that he was having improper relations with the Lantern. It would rob him of all honor he had worked hard for. Which placed him into a predicament. Dishonor himself by accepting the gift and continuing on as he had intended. Risk execution for the great insult to this Lord by refusing the gift. Sentence himself to an unhappy life of service to Yamoto in exchange for the gift. Or… get married. Unfortunately he couldn’t go and find some random Ninshin to wed. If he did then everything could be even worse for him. That left him with two options: accept the gift or take the hint and marry Hanako. Or… maybe there was one way out of all of this. It was a gambit but… no, running away as he “thought over” the gift was cowardice. His hands were tied.

He felt his freedom slip away as he bowed down, fingers placed on the polished floor in front of him.

“I am humbled by your gift. It is most gracious.”

“I am glad that you have accepted this. Please, stay one more night. The Lantern Market will be coming at dawn. In the morning you may collect your gift, perhaps Hanako could accompany you as well. He has excellent judgement on these sort of things.”

“I thank you for your generous offer but I fear I cannot take advantage of your hospitality. You have already done so much for me, I feel it would not be fight if I stayed another night under your grand roof. I would not want to impose on Hanako-san either, the Market only opens at dawn. After such a stressful event, it would be best to let someone as delicate as Hanako-san to rest.”

Yamato grumbled before working his large stomach to center himself. He paused himself up onto his feet.

“You are right. Hanako is very sensitive to these sort of things… Very well you may be on your way, but we would enjoy the pleasure of seeing what Lantern you had chosen. Bring it here for midday meal.”

“I shall. Thank you.”

Usagi waited patiently until he was allowed to leave. Once he was escorted off of the property through the main wooden gates he allowed himself a sigh. His situation was now compromised. He didn't want to do any of this. He didn’t approve of the Lantern Market. He didn’t approve of slaves. Let alone ones that were stolen from their home land and forced into a life of pleasure giving. He knew that Lanterns were meant for the affection that his society frowned upon. To hold their masters, to tend to children, but he would be a fool if he assumed that the masters do not have sex with them, cheating on their wives, forcing themselves on the others, raping them. The whole business was disgusting and here he was honor bound to do business with them.

He slowed in his steps. Children laughed and ran past as a Lantern sat to the side a patient, neutral expression on his face. His jade colored skin had been marred by a dark tattoo of his master on his jaw. The samurai stopped, his inner spirit going silent in shame as he recalled how he had helped with war that had torn this individual from his home, from his family only to be placed into a foreign land with a language so different that most Lanterns could not speak it, rendering them mute in fear of being beaten by their masters for uttering words in their “bastard tongue”. A part of him worried over the implications of having a Lantern so damaged that death would be better but in comparison to his personal shame it was a very quiet portion.

He bowed slightly to the Lantern. Automatically the turtle bowed back, the large decorate obi that flared over his shell was fixed tightly by rings pierced into the edge of his schutes. Another barbaric practice subjugated up on them by Usagi’s people, a forcing to covering their shells in which the mammals had found distasteful and some would go as far as saying that they were “marks of shame.”

The samurai steeled himself to prevent staring. He moved forward, forcing one foot in front of the other. Despite not seeing the Lantern anymore he couldn’t help the feeling to want to turn and look back. His pushed his mind into thinking about what will come tomorrow. A Lantern of his own. What would he find in the Market? A reptile half fed, prettied up with fancy clothes and too much makeup to attract customers? If he tried to find the most desperate looking one then maybe he could let it free and make up a story about how bandits had jumped them and in the struggle it had perished. So far, it was his best course of action, but what if someone had come across it?… Rape, murder, recapture, sold to a brothel… countless bad outcomes would happen to his charge.

When he came to an inn his feet felt as heavy as his mind. What was he to do? He had only one option. To preserve his honor, to make certain his charge was safe… what else could he do?

That night he didn’t sleep. Only laid awake upon a futon. Too soon did the early rays of the sun raise. Too soon did he leave the warm comforts of the inn to step out into the cold, golden moring. The Lantern Market was too close for him. Each step felt heavier than the last. He could see the covered carts that were used to transport the Lanterns from village to village. He tilted his straw hat, his kasa, to try to prevent him from seeing the bright colors of obi and kimono that the Lanterns wore as he got closer. They were properly seated on little mats, tabi socks were the only foot protection they were allowed as shoes would give them an option to run if they ever dared.

The merchant was adjusting one of the Lantern’s kimons to lay properly around him. The merchant was a brown rabbit with two dark spots on his face, one on his left eye the other just off the edge of his nose on the same side. His floppy ears were scraggly but picked up on the sound of a customer quickly enough. His teeth were yellowed from tobacco and tea and didn’t sit right in his head.

“Good morning!” He greeted Usagi before the samurai could approach all the way. “Come look, come take a gander at my pretty stones, Samurai.”

Stones. He hated that term already. It was a slang term to describe the hard shelled backs and the empty emotions. It also meant that they were lower than dirt as stones were usually found within the ground.

“I was sent here by Lord Yamato.” Usagi kept his voice low. 

He hated this. Hated it.

“Ah! The noble samurai Miyamoto Usagi! I was sent word of your deeds two days ago. Only the finest for you, my dear friend.”

“Two days?”

“Yes, a messenger from Lord Yamato himself sought me out. Rerouted my course just for you!”

And a fat coin pers no doubt. Especially since the attack was only yesterday and he was “awarded” a Lanter late afternoon. An anger seeded in Usagi’s stomach. Yamato really had planned everything just as he had suspected. That little seed quickly grew into a thistly weed of spite. There was no way he was going to let this underhanded Lord use him again. It made his course of action very clear.

“Please, show me your Lanterns.” Usagi tried to sound like an interested buyer.

The Merchant eagerly did so. Taking hold of chin and cheek of each one down the line. Tilting their heads to the right then the left to show off their features. He encouraged usagi to touch them. Their skin being unique with smooth soft scales almost like bare skin. There had been one in particular that felt like silk. 

He passed by so many all painted with makeup, colored bands of cloth tied around their eyes, done up in the back with pins, fans, and other decorate objects. He had noticed that the “masks” were deliberately chosen colors that would compliment their eyes. It was saddening that many of those eyes were red from crying, some were still wet with tears.

It made it hard to look at them. He wished he could do something, anything, to help them. As it was, he could only choose one. He pushed on, he had to see them all before he could make a decision. 

Then he came upon one that seemed… perfect. His kimon was a pastel pink with white peacocks sitting in flowers patterned over it. A matching fan was fixed in his purple mask as a head dress with decorative golden chopsticks held up a matching crescent moon shape. He sat perfectly still eyes fix forward. Usagi had spotted him two Lanterns down. Without thinking the samurai walked away from the merchant coming straight to the pretty Lantern. He knelt down to look at the lovely olive colored face. He felt hesitant to touch the other as if he did then something would happen to take this vision away from him. This turtle was… he was breathtaking. 

“Mr. Samurai, do you like this one?” The merchant rubbed his hands together. “A very good choice.”

Usagi held out his hand and waited patiently until the Lanter calmly reached out to place his hand in Usagi’s. The rabbit looked at the stark color difference of their skin, or fur, or scales? He wasn’t sure, his mind was muddled with the beauty of it, with the colors, the texture of the palm and how easily it seemed to hold this hand that had only three fingers instead of four. It felt… right to hold this hand. He looked back at the eyes staring straight forward. Such a strange color, green but also brown. He hadn’t seen eyes like that before. 

“What is your name?” Usagi inquired gently.

The merchant quickly spoke up, “This is Tamara. A very pretty little stone, Had a nice and long polishing.”

Polished; It was a term used to describe submissiveness. Polished meant broken to the long eared samurai, it was nothing to be proud of. While others may think that the turtles with the shells on their backs to be nothing more than creatures, he found that what is done to their Ninshin was the real attrosity. 

“How long did it take to polish him?” Usagi tried to sound like a buyer and not one that was looking at the most exquisite person that made his heart pitter patter. 

“It took some time. My associates and I had to work hard, had to use some tools of the trade.” 

Good, that meant that this one had spirit. It meant that with a little work of his own he may be able to bring to the surface a glimpse of the true Tamara.

“I would like to add that this one is fluent in our language, he can do more than just basic commands.”

“Does he speak it?” Usagi took the other hand of the Lantern and guided the Ninshin up onto his feet. Tamara was half a head shorter than Usagi. The golden crescent moon on the head dress glinted in the early morning light catching his eye.

“Oh very well, very well. Are you interested in purchasing this one? He is currently one of my most expensive.”

Usagi had to take a moment to bite down on his tongue. Selling people as if they were objects… he had to keep himself calm or he would end up doing something he would regret. He had to try hard not to make a scene. 

“Lord Yamato will take the bill, but make sure you sign the certificate of ownership over to me.”

“Of course, of course!” The greed merchant raced off to get what the sale ready.

While the dark haired rabbit was gone Usagi turned to the Lantern. His thumbs rubbed over the hands in his. Things were changing for him, changing drastically and at a fast pace. 

“I… I intend to marry you… for a selfish reason.” He said quietly. 

Tamara closed his eyes taking a deep breath through his beak. Usagi felt the other quiver, hands shaking. The samurai held tight as the other opened those pretty eyes, looking at him with recognition before nodding.

“It would be quick, no true ceremony, only a service at the local temple… and I will take you to an inn to consumate. It will be the only time I will expect sex from you.” Usagi reached up taking hold of the other’s arm to show his sincerity.

The other nodded again.

Usagi slipped his hand up from arm to olive colored cheek. “I am sorry.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly almost cried several times when writing this. I hope it'll move you guys as much as it has moved me. If not then I need to greatly improve my writing style.
> 
> I also was listening to [this song](https://youtu.be/12NjLhUjyB4) the whole time I was writing.
> 
> Tamara = Donatello  
> Bearer = what the turtles call Omegas  
> Ninshin = what Usagi's people call Omegas

Donatello felt as if he was walking through water at the bottom of a lake. The world was cold despite the sun, pressing on him from all sides. People moved slowly, birds seemed to hang in the sky like stage props for one of Michelangelo’s productions. Each step was heavier than the next forging a link to the invisible chains keeping him at the bottom of this unforgiving lake.

_"I intend to marry you… for a selfish reason.”_

The words echoed in his mind, shifting the voice the further into the past it traveled. The voice that came back belonged to someone else. Eyes a beautiful gold pierced into him as words placed a claim upon his god given soul. The one he loved had pulled him along the streets, hand in hand, his other rested on the pommel of his sword. He twisted around, walking backwards as he smiled at Donnie, his face was still red from telling his desire. He was being lead to the other’s home, a small home for a general in the royal army. The snow around his boots grew deeper the closer he got to the home.

Hazel eyes blinked back the memory that held onto him like his own shadow as Usagi walked the same way, hand holding his, palm on hilt of sword. The long eared samurai turned to walk backwards. He smiled making him choke on his own distress. He clung tightly to the fact that the seasons were different, that he did not love his newly wed husband. He told himself that it would not be long before he could adjust to this as well. Push back the ghosts of the past and simply live the life he held no choice in.

When alone in a room at an inn, Donnie bit his lip trying to stop the pain that welled up deep in his stomach.

The gentle touches hurt more than fingers of the past pressing nails deep into his skin of slave traders and merchants trying to break his will. The caressing hands torn into him deeper than any blade he had felt before. He screwed his eyes shut as lips gave tender kisses to his body ripping him open like a child trying to force a flower bud to blossom. His body shuddered as his new husband’s hot mouth touched between his legs. He put his hands over shoulders as memories flooded forth, only one other had touched him in such a way. Back in a time when the clouds were heavy with snow and the nights were long. The fire was warm as the flames danced merrily. He heard his true love speak his name with such reverence that it made his heart flutter higher than a bird could fly in the sky. Strong eyes held him in place. His fellow turtle touched him as if he was a precious rose from the Queen’s garden. He had smelled the Bearer, taking in his sweet scent. Their fingers brushed softly together, quietly asking permission. Their lips brushed, his love tasted his nectar before grabbing him by the scutes. He gave a powerful pull, pressing their bodies flush together as he greedily drank. They scrambled to pull their clothing off, stumbling, fumbling gracelessly until they were rid of shirt and trousers. His caresses, touches… kisses…, they all were so soft, exploring, learning. His fiery mouth dipped between Donatello’s legs. Donnie had stumbled back as his love knelt before him, gripping his hips to hold him still. He moaned as hands rested on his shoulders. He shuddered, choking on the name he wanted to call out as a pleasurable heat raced through his body. The other chuckled, pulling back enough to grab one of the other’s hand and pull him down to rest on their sides on the floor. He purred, pulling Donnie’s leg up over his hip, stroking the soft skin of thigh before reaching around to grip tail. This time the olive turtle did cry out in the name. A hard penis pushed into his weeping entrance eager for the joining of their bodies.

Strong arms wrapped around him, the softness of the fur that covered the body of his new husband chased the memories away. He gasped as a hard cock was slowly pushed into his slicked sex. Usagi settled deep into the turtle’s body, shivers raced through his arms as he tried to keep himself in control. The body of his Lantern was tight, hot, and silken. He kissed against neck, tongue flicking out to taste the other. The other had been so quiet, not spoken a word, very stiff in physical action. Usagi had spoken to the priest. He had their names joined in the temple, went back to the inn he had a room at, not having told the owner he was finished with his rented room when he had left that morning. He had taken his bride into his room, the futon still laid out and untouched. With understanding his wife had started to undress but Usagi had stopped him. “If at any time I harm you, tell me. I never want to bring you pain.” He whispered as he stepped so close, brushing their hands together in a whispering touch. He brought his mouth to his Lantern’s kissing gently at first until that lovely mouth opened. He tongue slipped inside taking a taste. Warmth spread throughout his body as he grabbed the other by the edge of his shell and pulled him flush against Usagi’s strong form. He took his time kissing his wife, fingers following the cloth of the obi to the back to carefully untie the knotted cloths. He only broke the kiss in order to step back and unwind the obi.

When the kimono slid down shoulders Usagi found his eyes taking in every bit of the beautiful person in front of him. He pressed open mouthed kisses to the yellowed skin on the chest and abdomen. His hands touched to remember every scar, every dip and raise. He wanted to learn every inch of skin, every swirl and grove of shell. His heart fluttered as the other shuddered when he made it down to his knees, pulling the kimono down with him. It pooled on the floor as he moaned, tongue flicking out over groin. Hands rested on his shoulders. He felt the turtle sway, he raised up his hands, taking hold of hips in order to steady him. He continued to lavish attention to the small slit that was pushed back and in the center between the Ninshin’s legs. It was slicking with a sweet juice he wanted to drink. He took his hands away from the other to work off his gi, then groped to untie his obi. When it opened he shoved his hakama down enough to pull his hardened cock free. He pulled his wife down, kissing and caressing while he laid the both of them on their sides. His hand smoothed over thigh, down to knee brining it up to his hip allowing him the access to thrust up missing his wife’s entrance once before finding what he wanted. He carefully pushed in, shivering from how perfect the other felt.

Usagi was careful in the movement of his hips, gentle and long strokes. He wanted this to last. It had been a while since he had indulged in sex, but so much longer since he had it with someone he was actually attracted to. The last time he had such a reaction it was far in the past with a Ninshin that he had left in hopes to send for once his position for Lord Mifune. Mariko had the same effect on him as Tamara. Mariko was a slow love, cultivated with young brashness and nurtured with unrealistic romance that resulted in the Ninshin marrying someone else while he worked hard to bring honor to his family name. But… Tamara was so sudden, a thick and heavy desire to know this turtle. To treasure him and keep him close was established so quickly, as if the Gods had delivered unto him a divine being, a hiten, a celestial maiden.

He pulled back enough to look at the other’s face. His heart stopped at the pained look upon the face of his wife. He pulled out instantly and sat up.

“Did I hurt you?” He reached down, finger slipping into his wife’s entrance causing a shiver in the other. He pulled his finger out. No blood, maybe bruising? He had been very tight. He reached over, touching shoulder. He tried again to get a response out of the other. “Wife, did I hurt you?”

“No.”

Usagi felt his mouth water, his racing heart stammered and skipped at the sound of the soft voice. He felt a strange sort of greet take root, one that desired this voice. It was smooth and gentle.

“Speak again…” His eyes wandered over the lovely face of his wife. “Once more… please.”

The Ninshin looked confused and apprehensive.

“....How would you like me?”

Usagi bit his bottom lip, his cock strained at the question.

“Tamara… I- I think it is best to stop, you look pained.” He took in a sharp gasp when the three fingered hand of his wife wrapped around his penis. A small pump already made the tip weep. He looked on helplessly as the other threw his leg once more over Usagi’s hip using his calf and heel to pull the other closer. He guided the mammal back to his entrance. He removed his hand, pushing his hips down they were joined once more.

Getting the message Usagi took hold of hip and rocked his hips up at a pace that derived the most pleasure. This time he kept his eyes on his wife’s expressions. His eyes half lidded as his panting breath brushed against green lips. He watched brows wrinkle in and up, bottom lip be pulled in between teeth as he hit a particular spot that pleased the other. He continued to hit that spot as his hands ran over skin. It was when his nails raked over shell that Donnie threw back his head, a small whimper escaping from open mouth. Usagi bucked harder, faster, using both hands to scratch at shell earning more sounds of ecstacy. He felt the silken walls encasing his cock flex and relax in a milking action. He ran a hand down fingers brushing against quivering tail when he had intended to grab buttocks. A full cry rushed out of his wife, hips snapping forward to meet his thrusts. With such a reaction, the tail must be very sensitive. He brushed his fingers against it once more while he kissed at neck. He bucked faster as his wife followed his lead thumping down on his thrust up. The turtle whimpered in desperation as they got closer to climax. Usagi’s hand wrapped fully around tail, soon as he did the velvety purse he was inside clamped down so tight it pushed him out. He watched the other climax, body stiffening for several moments before relaxing. He pushed his cock back inside, he gathered his wife, his hiten, close to him. He held on as in this brief moment it wasn’t about showing tenderness but fucking to get to his climax. The Lantern wrapped his arms around him, holding on as he was rocked sideways on the floor.

Usagi rolled them onto the turtle’s shell. Donnie had to put his hands on the floor to prevent them from rolling around on the curved dome of his carapace. His legs were raised by the ankles as Usagi rested on his knees. The mammal continued his fevered pace grunting as he sweated. He was so close. So close.

He hit that sweet spot inside the Ninshin making it difficult to hold onto those beautiful legs when they tried to close. Donnie whined from over sensitivity. Usagi leaned over, bending knees towards chest. He kissed at lips. Finally, the coil deep inside snapped allowing him to spill his seed inside his wife’s body. His hips stilled, pressed in as far together as he could get. He groaned as he felt his testicals pull up.

Letting go of the ankles in his hands was hard, his fingers felt stiff from squeezing so tight during his climax. It took energy he did not have to pull his penius out and flop onto the floor to the side. He tried to catch his breath, eyes closed, pulse still racing. He blindly reached over for his wife, intending to bring him close for post coitus cuddling. His hand slapped down over face earning a small grunt.

He sat up quickly, looking down at who he knew by the name of Tamara. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

The turtle was rubbing at his eye smearing makeup into the purple mask. He didn’t even notice that the mask and headdress had been left on. He reached down taking hold of wrist. “Careful, you will get it in your eye, it’ll hurt…”

He watched as a look of recognition slipped across the one under him. He looked down the other, eyes trailing over naked body as something slowly came to the surface. A strange sense of dread bubbled up in his stomach.

_“Did I hurt you?”_

His own question came back to him. Small scars pocked across his wife’s side, drifting down to the sides of the upper most part of his thighs. They were pastel green showing how their age. He had hurt him… only with memories of the past. Memories of others like himself forcing their way into the scared temple that was his body. He was no better having married this person, forced him into a different form of slavery, took advantage of him sexually.

Disgusted with himself, he quickly grabbed his clothing and pulled it on. Tamara came up to his knees, gathering his kimono to pull up to his chest. He looked up at the samurai with unsurety.

“No… stay here. I…” Usagi hesitated before he reached over and caressed cheek and chin. “I am going to request a bath for you and run a few errands. Please, give me your clothing and headdress.”

Hazel eyes looked around, not sure of what to do. What if Usagi just leaves, never to return? What if he comes back with “friends” and allows them to take advantage of Donnie’s body? What if… what if…

Seeing the fear Usagi knelt down on one knee. He took his wakazashi and held it out. “Do you know about Samurai and of their swords?”

Donnie was reluctant to answer. After all, he had been trained to be one of few words. He could still feel the metal plate between his teeth, holding down his tongue as the metal cage around his head kept him from speaking. His eyes grew wide at the memory of the rocking cart he was in, the pain in his body as a cool damp cloth was fed under his lip to allow him to suck on it for water. Before the memory could go further Usagi was pushing the sheathed blade into his hands.

“A samurai’s swords are his soul. To prove to you my word, I am leaving you with a piece of my soul. Is this acceptable, Tamara?”

The Lantern clutched the sheath, holding the blade close to his chest as he nodded. Usagi smiled once more, without thinking he pressed a kiss to the other’s head before taking off the mask and the headdress. He gathered the kimono and stood up.

“I won’t be long. I promise.”

When he left he slide the door mostly closed, stepping to the side. He stopped only a few steps away, he could hear a withering sound, a small lilt that took a powerful grip around his heart, squeezing it. The soft uneasy breaths of his wife crying trying to be as quiet as he could. He swallowed hard, carefully walking back he peeked through the crack of the door. Alone in the room, Donatello gripped the wakazashi upon hilt and sheath. He choked on his sobs rocking back and forth as he sat on his knelt. His head fell back as he tried to banish the pain of remembering. He silently wept over how similar both husbands had been. How Usagi had taken him just like his beloved had the first time they had sex. How he was held and touched, how they smiled at him. He had tried so hard to push it all behind him, to focus on only surviving, his bastion against the agony of loss had been ripped away leaving him raw and bleeding fresh. He begged that their similarities ended upon this event. He couldn’t live with a ghost clinging onto his back. He couldn’t survive if all he wanted to do was join the one he had dedicated his heart to. His body had been beaten, broken, violated by so many. His mind pounded with a smithy’s hammer to mold it to the wills of this foreign land. His heart was the only thing he could truly claim as his own and now it was being assaulted once more. When he had first received word his husband had died upon the battlefield, the whole unit slaughtered, he at least had Michelangelo to grieve with, both having lost so much. Now he was alone, his strength wavering as this new husband came, bathed in light as if guided by the hand of his departed lover. All he could feel was the cold love of a ghost that beckoned for him to follow.

Donnie moved back so he could sit and pull his knees up to his chest. He clutched the short sword tighter until his knuckles were white. He tucked his head down, the guard to the blade dug into his forehead as his body clenched tight. A breathe raged through his lungs as fat tears finally spilled forward. A terrible sob ripped through him, he tried to keep it as quiet as he could as his old grief flooded forward feeling doubled with the mocking situation that life had bestowed upon him.

Usagi pulled the bunched up kimono in his arms closer. He wished he could go in there, scoop the turtle up and wipe away all the tears. He wished he could throw the pain and worries away but he knew… he knew that sound. That cry was not one of shame, not one of normal pain. His wife was grieving. Grief had its own kind, grief for the loss of home, grief for a break up between betrothed… a grief of the loss of someone you loved. In his time, in his travels… he knew what kind he was witnessing. A love that meant more than all other things in the world, taken away.

He blinked back the tears that threatened to shed as he stayed helpless, only a door separating them. Teeth ground together as he forced himself to move. He wanted to go inside. He wanted to soosh the cries. But the best thing he could do was give his better half the space he needed to grieve. If Usagi knew anything about the people in the Lantern trade he knew they would do anything to make the Lantern quiet and emotionless. He needed to encourage this behavior, give him the time robbed from him. He worked himself down stairs, taking a deep breath to plaster on an appropriate face for the public.

“Ah, Samurai-san!” The innkeeper was placing down a bowl of noodles on a table for a guest. “Will you be checking out soon?”

“Not yet.” Usagi gave a smile. “I would like to request new clothing for my wife.”

The innkeeper paused, a look of surprise washing over his features. He had seen Usagi come back with a Lantern. Was the Lantern his wife or was a Ninshin coming soon? That must be it, he’s headed out to get his Ninshin wife and bring him back to collect the Lantern. That has happened before.

“Of course!”

“Thank you. Also could you bring a bath up to the room for him? I also would like your finest meal for two to be delivered after the bath is done. I will not be long.”

The innkeeper bowed. “Yes, Samurai-san!”

Usagi took Donatello’s geta sandals as he left for the market. There he found a shop that would buy the kimono and head dress. He hesitated, looking down at the mask and the crescent moon.

He paid for the mask to be washed and made a special deal. While the mask would dry he ventured to a smithy that handled making nails and cooking pots. He requested delicate work. It took longer than he had anticipated but when it was done he had a metal crescent moon with hole worked towards the tip. A cord was fed through wrapped and tied to make it into a pendant. The headdress was repaired to look as if it held no such object. He slipped the cord over his head, made sure it was secure and tucked inside of his gi. Usagi then returned to the first shop. He gave over the headdress and retrieved the mask. He took the geta to a cobbler and traded the geta for a pair of waraji sandals. With these it would be much more comfortable to travel than the stiff, cumbersome geta.

When he returned to the inn the innkeeper told him that the dressmaker was already upstares in his room to measure out his wife. He paused, “Where is your wife?”

Usagi frowned feeling a scared flutter in his chest. Did Tamara leave? He was naked! He- Usagi raced up the stairs. The door to his room seemed too far away, it took too long to get to it. He slammed open the door finding a room filled with a wooden tub full of cooled water, two Ninshin waiting to help whomever had ordered it to bathe. There was another with a long rope that held black marks on it for measurement. The three strangers were uncomfortably close to Tamara.

His Lantern was standing in the corner unwilling to let go of the wakazashi in his hands. One of his cheeks was red. Usagi’s fear quelled in the storm of rage. He scowled.

“What is going on here?!” He demanded.

“Filthy Lantern.” One of the wash Ninshin hissed, his elderly wrinkles made his black eyes beady and small. “Tried to get into the bath meant for your wife. Had to keep him in check. Held him here, obviously tried to steal your blade. Filthy Stone thief!!”

“He **is** my wife!” Usagi hissed. He old wash-man by the arm and pulled him out of the room. He turned to the other shouting, “Get the innkeeper, I am outraged!!”

The two ran away leaving a startled and shocked dressmaker. “You!”

“Y-yes, Samurai-san?” Was the squeaking reply.

“I want a yukata for him, as fast as possible, measure for his back.”

“W-what kind of covering would you want for his Sto-”

“If you call anything on him a ‘stone’ I will have your hide.” Usagi placed himself firmly between the mammal and reptile. He pointed to the circles he bore on his shoulders, “And make sure he has my family crest.”

“Y-yes, S-samurai.”

It wasn’t too soon before the innkeeper showed up.  Usagi took off his gi to put over olive shoulders to cover his naked form from the new comer. Timid, worrying about what the samurai would do to him. “I was told you wished to see me, Samurai-san?”

“Yes!” Usagi stormed over. He thrust a palm over to Donatello, who was getting measured. “My wife was denied the bath I had requested for him, was assaulted by your staff and accused of thievery!! I will not allow this to stand!”

“Your… the Lantern is your-”

The long eared samura growled, a snarl pulling at his lips. “There is no law against what Ninshin I decide to wed, but there is a law against this kind of treatment to my ‘property’.” His wife. His Lantern.

“I-I-I’m terribly sorry for such disrespect!” The innkeeper fell to his knees. “I-I will refund your room and the order a new bath. The food, the food will be on the house!!”

“Not good enough.”

“N-not good enough?”

“U...sagi.” The rabbit closed his eyes, breathing through his nose as his name was called out for the first time by the one he had married. He looked back to the other, the dressmaker was crouched down in front of his Lantern’s legs to block the view of exposed legs. His eyes lingered on the sight of the red welt slowly fading in its angry color. It wasn’t enough… none of this was enough. It would never be enough to wash the sounds of the purest form of suffering away.

He took another breath turning back to the innkeeper. “After my wife is properly taken care of, I want your staff to apologize properly to him.”

“Yes, Samurai-san.” The man’s brow pressed to the floor with his deep bow.

“Go, fetch water for a warm bath.” Usagi flicked his hand towards the door. Never before had he sounded so pompous or arrogant. He felt tired… drained… the emotional scare of Tamara running away. Seeing instead the aftermath of bullying.

The dressmaker excused himself, Usagi gave instructions to have clothing within the next few hours. Once alone Usagi went to his turtle. The Lantern held out his wakazashi. The samurai pushed it down while he took chin in hand. He took a closer look to the pained cheek.

“Are you alright, my Golden Moon?”

His wife’s eyes widened, shocked. He said nothing as he started to tremble. Fresh tears welled up in bright eyes. This time Usagi did wrap his arms around his Lantern, protecting its flickering light from the howling winds of insults, accusations, and hatred. He pressed head into his shoulder, he felt the sniffle against his chest more than heard it. Shaking arms slowly wrapped around him, short sword pushed up against his back.

“I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry my Golden Moon.” Usagi pressed his cheek against the top of a green head.

He was being held. He wasn’t be yelled at or punished for showing emotion. Hearing “Golden Moon” made his breathing hitch. He squeezed his eyes shut, large pearls of tears slipped down into the white fur of his husband’s chest. He held on tight as an unwanted memory came back to haunt him once more.

_“You’re like my personal golden moon.” He pulled Donnie close to his side. The cool night air hummed with the song of crickets._

_The inventor chuckled. “A golden moon? Is that anything like the Harvest Moon?”_

_“No. It’s much more rare and holds a endless value.”_

_Donnie shifted rolling his top half fully while his legs and hips stayed on his side. He rested his chin on chest. Looking at the other with deep curiosity. “What’s a golden moon then?”_

_“You hold more value to me than any amount of gold could buy. And at the risk of sounding overly romantic, you’re like the moon, beautiful and bright, your light soft and gentle. There is nothing else like you, a life saving signal fire in the endless sea of darkness. And…”_

_“And?” Donatello propped himself up onto one hand._

_“And… Every night I see the moon, I know, if I follow it, I’ll find you no matter where you may be.” He reached up, touching an olive cheek. Donnie kissed at the thumb that brushed against his lips. “I’ll find my way back to you, Donnie. No matter how far away we may seem.”_

He silently begged for the memories to stop. Was his husband’s spirit angry at him for being wed once more? Had he been cursed when he refused to die at the hands of the enemy? Why was he being tormented?

  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bearers = What the turtles call their omegas  
> Ninshin = What Usagi's people call omegas
> 
> Also I do NOT know Italian. I had to look up a bunch of things. I tried to find what police officers were called during the renescaunce period but couldn't find much, so I worked with what I had. If you have more knowledge of this time period in Italy I'm all ears and welcome the advice!
> 
> I’m basing Usagi’s voice off of the 2k12 series and Donnie’s on the 2k3 series. Leo's voice is based off of the 2k7 CGI movie. Mikey and Raph, use your imagination. I only mention the voices because I've had people ask what I imagine their voices as, that's all. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!

_Donatello felt the familiar pressure of Michelangelo leaning against his shell. The actor gave a dramatic sigh showing his displeasure that Donnie rather squint through the meany glass lenses layered over his eyes and work on tiny details._

_“Seriously, Donnie, come on!” He complained. “I want to see Raph already.”_

_The olive turtle chuckled as he fixed down a small pump to the outside of the doll house he was working on. Typically he wouldn’t have accepted the job, his passion was with inventing, not doll houses but when the Duchessa had requested a doll house like no other it had peaked his interest. He asked how this would be different and the noble Bearer had dipped into the pool of his own desires and pulled out a challenge. This dollhouse would need to have to be made of all the same materials used in the royal palace, complete with marble, wallpaper, paintings and furniture. He wanted working water pumps, swans in shimmering ponds. A garden that smelled like blooming flowers and grasses. He wanted it to be perfect for the hatching of the new prince of their relm in six months._

_Working in such a small scale would not be easy. He would have to make the furniture functionable, everything to open up they way they should even secret drawers in the vanities. He was working the extra mile and even making secret passages that were rumored to be within the palace. As to what the secret passages lead to he used his imagination from a secret game room to a secret garden, he even had a tunnel with tortues and stairs that burrowed down the large hillside he had the palace settled on emptying out into spools of twisted silver and a toy boat to show the seaside escape._

_So far his detailed plans were working with relatively few accidents… after the first five attempts that needed to be scrapped._

_“You know you can go to him and see him without me.” Donnie focused on fixing the pump into place, making sure it would not break off without great effort._

_Mikey gave a long wistful sigh, he rested his cheek on his friend’s shell and nuzzled as he thought about the smithy. “La mia fucina.”_

_The inventor held back a snicker. “Shouldn’t you make sure he’s actually yours before you start declaring him to being your smithy?”_

_“Who said he wouldn’t be mine? Was it Sebastian?! I bet it was! Argh! The gall of that turtle!!”_

_Donnie laughed in his chest, holding tightly to prevent it from filling the room. Michelangelo’s love rivalry was the funniest thing. Sure, Sebastian was trying his hardest to win Raphael over but Raph never showed any interest in him. Then again Raph didn’t show much interest in many, being the master smith of the area, so good that even the royal smithy would come to him from time to time with jobs, he was much too busy for “love”. He was a man of his profession. Maybe that’s why he got along with Donnie so well. Donnie gave him new and interesting things to work on. Donnie didn’t linger except to make sure Raph knew exactly what he wanted done. They held pleasantries, that was it. Mikey on the other hand, being one of the most popular actors of their area, had little reason to go to a blacksmith. He used Donnie as an excuse to see the man at any opportunity he got. Which cropped up a problem._

_“What about Luigi?”_

_Blue eyes turned to him, squinting in a way that dared him to continue. “What about Luigi?”_

_Of course he was going to continue. What kind of friend would he be if he didn’t? “You know he’s Raph’s apprentice. Rather good looking with that brown skin and dark brown shell. Good muscles. Funny. He really likes you. I think you would have a better ch-”_

_“I knew you were going to say something like this!” Michelangelo threw his hands up into the air as he pulled himself away from Donnie._

_Donnie pulled his custom made goggles, blinking a few times to allow his eyes to adjust. “What is it he usually says when he sees you?”_

_“Il mio santo stinco.” Mikey grumbled, folding his arms, the sleeves of his tunic loose, causing one to pull up to his elbow._

_My shin bone of a saint- Luigi was calling Mikey angelic, saying he had qualities of a saint. “What’s so bad about that?”_

_“Because it’s not coming from Raph! I mean, what am I to do?! Why won’t he look at me like he does the metal he moves as if it was water? W-why can’t he- he-” The actor’s voice broke, his eyes misting as heartache scrunched up his features._

_“O-oh, Mikey.” Donnie cooed as he stood up. He came up to his best friend and wrapped his arms around him. Mikey turned into him, burying his face into neck. He rubbed shell comfortingly as the turtle began to sniffle. “Come on, don’t cry. You wouldn’t want Raph to see you with weak eyes when we get there, right?”_

_“Th-then we’ll go?”_

_Donnie nodded. “Yeah, I need a break and I could place a few more orders with him.”_

_“Great!” Mikey chimed pulling away and trotting out of the workshop quickly, hand gripping the inventor’s and dragging him along._

_“Can I get my work apron off first? Maybe even clean up?”_

_“No time!”_

_He was pulled outside down the worn path that lead to Donatello’s work shop and to the road that lead to the market. The speed that they were going reminded him when they were children racing to get to Old Giuseppe’s bakery to get for free what little goodies that didn’t sell at the end of the day. Their hands remained clasped the whole way, both going faster until they were running. The aquard slap of his leather apron didn’t slow him down. The feel of the gravely road under his boots was liberating after a long day of work locked up in his shop, sitting on a hard stool and hunched over for hours. They pulled each other around groups. Shouted warnings for people to move out of their way as they started to laugh, getting out of breath. They only slowed when they got to the smithy. The large counter that kept the public from going into the forge had a few people gathered around it. Mikey and Donnie almost stumbled to a stop, panting heavily, sweating. They chuckled, finally releasing their hands. Mikey bent over, hands on his knees as he panted. Donnie had his hands on his hips, bowing his shell back feeling a satisfying pop as a knink was worked loose._

_“That was fun!” Mikey straightened himself out only to throw his arms around Donnie’s neck._

_“It was.” Donnie pushed his cheek against his friend’s while he wrapped his arms around the turtle. He leaned back again, lifting Mikey’s feet off the ground by a few inches. He waddled over to the counter where he could see Raph leaned over talking with a customer._

_“Hi Raphael,” he greeted as he plopped Mikey back down to his feet._

_The stoic smith’s eyes glanced over to him, not bothered one bit by how the two turtles clung to one another. It was common for their kind to do such a thing. Yet he looked at him strangely as if there was something out of place. It wouldn’t be the first time he came here with Mikey. Definitely not the first time showing up with rolled up sleeves and his work apron still on. Was there something on his face? No, he didn’t work with any paint or grease today._

_“Is… something wrong?”_

_“Someone is looking for you.” Raph stood up, his height only a head taller than himself. The way he said it was ominous._

_Mikey’s hold tightened as he looked at the smithy with concern. “It… it isn’t anything bad is it?”_

_The smithy’s eyes shifted from Donatello over to the actor. The gaze lingered as if he was measuring, judging. This only made Mikey worried._

_“Is he in trouble? Was it the polizia di stato?!”_

_With no answer to his desperate questions he paniced. If it wasn’t the local police then who was after Donnie? Wait. He did stuff for nobility._

_“Carabinieri?”_

_Raph finally spoke up. “In a sense.”_

_The military police?!_

_“You really should stop leading him on.” A new voice joined their conversation. Donnie blinked and tried to turn his head in Mikey’s vice like grip._

_“Leading…” Mikey loosened his grip on his friend. “You were teasing me?”_

_The only expression he got in return was one carved from stone._

_“Excuse me.”_

_Donnie finally was able to turn and see who was trying to address him. It was the turtle that Raph had been talking to before they had interrupted. He stood proudly, shoulders squared, hand on the hilt of his rapier. He wore the uniform of a General in the Royal army complete with the insignia sewn onto his coat’s shoulder._

_“I’ve been looking for you.” Golden eyes sparkled at him as the leaf green turtle smiled. He took off his hat and bowed. “Leonardo d’Alviano, at your service.”_

Donatello slowly opened his eyes. The smells of the world around him changed from ones of sweet grass on the rolling hills, the slight musk of dust from the roads to heavy moisture promising to be thick with heat, cooking fish and steamed rice. He lifted his head, blinking, his eyes feeling heavy and strained. A three fingered hand rested down on his shoulder. His eyes rested on the white appendage. His gaze traveled up the arm to the samurai that sat next to him. When did he end up on the floor? 

Seeing the confusion on the turtle’s face his new husband gently answered in a whisper, “You fainted.”

Donnie opened his mouth, feeling how heavy and dry his tongue was still he managed to rasp out. “I am sorry, master. I-”

“I’m no master.” Usagi got up. He went to some portion of the room that Donnie couldn’t see. He came back, kneeling down. “And you have nothing to apologize for my wife.” He helped the turtle up, before pushing a clay cup up to parched lips. 

Donnie took careful sips every time the cup was tipped until it was emptied. He put the cup to the side, losing his grip on the other allowing for the Lantern to sit up fully. He fidgeted a little. 

“Tamara?” 

Donnie hated that name. He hated the fact his own name is considered filthy to these people so he was labeled with another. He hated these people for what they had done. He hated all of them, in a festering way even for his new husband. Yet again his name was stolen from him, no longer Donatello but Tamara, now Miyamoto and not…

“I will listen to you.” Usagi looked into those unique eyes, the combination of green and brown. So different from anything he had ever seen before. “When ever you desire, even if it seems simple or pointless. I want you to speak up. I will hear you.”

The Lantern blinked back in surprise. He had always been told to shut up ever since his enslavement. Being requested to speak up was… it was… it was unheard of for these people. 

There was a knock. The new bath had come.

\--------------------- 

Usagi was careful on how he presented himself to Lord Hamato that day. He made certain that his wife wore the Mifune crest upon the blue yukata that was made for him. This alone will have a strong presence. His lord’s family crest became his own upon the moment he fell into service to the great man. Every day he held great pride in the round white patches with there circles on his shoulders. With Tamara now having it upon his person it showed to the world that he was a slave to no one but his lord. It was a subtle way of screaming in the village center that he was a free ninshin and not a Lantern enslaved.

This, in itself, was Usagi’s dangerous play. It was why he made sure not to enter the Lord’s residence. He stood outside the gates waiting patiently. Tamara stood by his side, a step back in a proper position for one’s wife. Marrying his Lantern had a very high risk of insulting the lord, in turn they could both be executed. That was if they were lucky. Another outcome was torture, especially to his lovely wife for “daring to marry above his station.” The samurai had seen it before unable to lend a helping hand as the lord of his lands abused his powers. His saving grace was to challenge the underhanded dealings of the Lord subtly. Quietly show that he was not going to follow his plans. With his own standing he had certain rites. If pushed, having the Lantern as a wife kept his honor intact, it also gave him leverage of protecting his family. If the Lord did or said anything that would imply that Usagi had taken advantage of him it would be an insult to him and he could demand a duel. Seeing Yamato during the “bandit raid” had told him enough of the man’s skills. He could easily take him.

This whole thing was a power play now and his innocent wife had been dragged into it. 

The samurai allowed his gaze to roam over the quiet being. Over his eyes and forehead were blue paints in a decorative pattern that looked almost like a lotus blossom, blue the same color of Usagi’s own gi, same blue of the yukata the turtle wore that held decorative patterns of waving water, his black obi contained swimming koi. He was beautiful, like a doll for a rich ninshin to enjoy. The colors were significant it showed ownership in many ways. The samurai took in a deep breath through his nose, pulled his gaze back to the turtle’s face. Neutral expression, holding a wagasa. Rain slowly dropping in a lazy tone around them making a muffled drumming sound when it did hit the umbrella that was the traditional red color for happiness. It was a small token, a strange thing he needed for the other to carry- the possible blessings of happiness. He asked himself a few times now, after they ate, after the yukata was delivered, after the staff of the inn apologize on their hands and knees to his Golden Moon. He asked himself so many questions from; “Did I do the right thing?” to “What does the future hold now? For him… for me… for us…” All he could do was reassure himself that he had little choice, that he would treat his wife with great respect, and hopefully, the gods would bless them with happiness at some point down the road. That’s if they weren’t killed by Yamato’s men for insulting the man with the underhanded marriage.

He gave the Lantern a smile, pretty eyes blinked at him uncertain as to how to react before giving a slight bow. It made Usagi’s expression change to a look of confusion. That… that was a strange reaction to get in return for a smile.

He turned his attention back to the open gates upon hearing the crunch of feet upon gravel. Yamato’s hulking form could be seen around the few guards that ushered him. The guards stepped to the side, shuffling out of the way as the bear and his children lined up. Servants with poles to a canopy held the cloth over the privileged people to keep them dry. 

“You are late.” The lord gave a growling huff. 

Usagi bowed, Tamara doing the same out of conditioning to follow lead, to treat all of these people as his betters. 

“Forgive us, we had not intended to be.” Usagi said simply. 

The bear growled bringing out his a fan to waft at his round face. His beady eyes narrowed on the Lantern. His gaze filled with a desire that Usagi did not like. He waved his hand, beckoning to Tamara. “Come, let us see the Lantern I paid for.”

Donnie took a step forward. It wasn’t unheard of that the person who paid for a Lantern and gifted it to another would take their turn. He had seen it happen, been told some of the terrors about how they were nothing but prostitutes… then… it was proven to him how true those words were. Having Usagi allow this beast take his turn with Donatello was expected. So why did it make him aware of a tiny flicker of warmth in his chest only when it was squashed? Because he was the only one to show kindness since he got to this god forsaken country.

Suddenly Usagi was between the two barring the turtle from going any further. The samurai held out his arm to create a barrier, his other resting on the hilt of his katana.

“What is the meaning of this?” Yamato’s son barked.

“You may be able to inspect a Lantern you had paid for, but you are not allowed to do such a thing to my wife.” Usagi said sternly.

Donatello felt his heart stop. Wait… being his wife prevented him from being shared around? It prevented others from doing what they wanted with him? But… but he was a Lantern, he-

“He’s a Lantern, you can’t marry a Lantern.” Hanako reeled at the scandalous implications.

Usagi narrowed his eyes. “You may check with the local priest if you do not trust my word.”

“You took advantage of my-”

“Do you really wish to go down this road?” Usagi bristled, his fur prickling up. He was ready for the challenge. Ready to protect his honor, ready to protect his wife. All they had to do was implicate that he was a thief or that he was dishonorable in any way. He had made sure his counter attack was perfect. He stayed ways from closed doors. Married his Lantern to protect his honor. His marriage to the Lantern gave him the leverage he needed to make a legal challenge against a lord. 

Yamato glared at the rabbit in front of him. His cheeks burned with rage. With a quick flick of his hand he dismissed them. He turned on his heel storming back behind the gates of his property. 

“Disgusting.” Hanako hissed looking at Donatello. 

Usagi wanted to tell him to shut up, that he was a vial person who abused others. That if anyone here was disgusting it was that wretched ninshin. He managed to bite his tongue and waited until the lord and his children were gone, the guards following behind.

He gave a sigh, turning and looking at Tamara. His wife bowed. Usagi smiled and held out his hand. “Come, let us go.”

What was he supposed to do now? Usagi didn’t know what to do with himself nor his new bride. He had tried so hard to stay alone, keep others safe by actively avoiding them or even going out of his way to make sure only those that could defend themselves would be his travel companions. After all the roads of this country were dangerous to travel, especially for a Ninshin. In towns it wouldn’t be so bad but on the country side, with bandits and robbers it is very hard to keep safe. He made his decision, he had to stick with this. Because of what he had done he couldn’t stell down in the same town that Yamato owned the lands of. No, they would have to travel far to find a place where his influence to other lords would be dwindled. That meant a long journey. It may even take years to find a suitable place to live. Maybe Tamara would adapt to the life on the road. If that is so then he would make everything easier for him. Maybe he could get his wife a knife to carry, teach him how to defend himself with it. That sounded good. It at least gave him some sort of direction for his future. 

Speaking of their future they had been only traveling for a few hours and he was certain that the rain was going to come in quick and hard, probably last the night. They would have to find shelter soon. 

He turned to his side, casting his gaze far back expecting the Lantern to be trialing. He startled when he saw the pretty olive face only a step to the side and behind. This turtle was a very quiet one, he would have to be careful. It wouldn’t do to have his pretty Golden Moon wander off and get hurt. 

“The merchant said you understand my language very well.” Usagi tried to start up a conversation. 

The samurai stepped back, turning on his heel and stopping quickly. The turtle bumped into him, light and soft, so warm and close. It made his heart beat quicken. The other quickly stepped back and bowed deep.

“Forgive me.”

Usagi felt his mouth water, his racing heart stammered and skipped at the sound of the soft voice. 

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

The turtle stood up straight and looked around, he started to walk off in what seemed to be a random direction. Usagi quickly going after him.

“Hey, where are you going?” He grabbed his wife’s arm, stopping him.

“To find a switch for you to beat me with.”

“B-beat you. Why would I beat you?”

“You had said there is nothing to forgive, then I must be punished until forgiveness is allowed, Master.”

Usagi quickly turned the other towards him, his hands gripped slender shoulders as he stared into hazel eyes with a hard gaze. If he had not been upset he would have swam in those pretty eyes. 

“I had told you before. I am no Master, I am your husband. I will never raise my hand against you, do you understand?”

The other looked a bit confused by this behavior. Usagi raised a hand and caressed the other’s cheek to show the sincerity of his words. Tenderly he brushed his thumb over olive skin. “When I said there was nothing to forgive, I had meant that you had done nothing wrong. I had stopped too quickly. …I am sorry for this misunderstanding.”

He pressed his lips against his wife’s forehead before pulling away letting them linger. He pulled back and took a cloth out of the pocket of his sleeve. He gently wiped away the makeup. Tamara no longer needed to be painted up for presentation. When he was done he had been tucking the cloth back when the tail of the purple mask slipped out. It caught the turtle’s attention. With hesitation he reached for it. Usagi, uncertain what the other was after looked down. He noticed the mask and pulled it out. “Ah… I should have probably throw this away. I’m sorry I-”

“M-may I have it?”

How could he refuse? He held it out for the other to take. Tamara took it and wrapped it around his eyes, tying it expertly behind his head. He shifted it a little to make sure it was securely in place, the purple tails slipping over his shoulders.

“It looks nice on you.” Usagi said quietly. It did look good, though, “Why do you wish to keep it?” It came out without him thinking. There was no reply. Instead he apologized for bringing it up. It was a rude thing to ask, after all for him it was a symbol of slavery.

“I also have to apologize to you for another thing.” He swallowed feeling a weight on his chest. He took his wife’s free hand into his own. “Well, for a few things. I’m sorry that you are now married to a homeless, penniless, Ronin. I am also sorry that I had wed you without even knowing your proper name. I doubt Tamara is really what you were given upon birth.” He gave a gentle squeeze to the hand in his. “I would like to know your real name.”

There was something in the other’s eyes, some sort of recognition. As if a memory came forward and he grasped upon it. The turtle stayed silent though, looking down to his feet. His hand clutched tightly to Usagi’s fingers and the samurai would be pleased with this. For the first time he had seen an emotion in the other that wasn’t subservient, confusion, or terrible grief. 

They continued to walk in silence, eventually releasing their hands. They needed to find shelter as the rain picked up, a chill wind began to cut through. To try to pass the time until they could find a place to stay Usagi would hum or talk about nothing but random things he knew about while he mentally toiled over his predicament. He had no home to take his wife to, so, he would have to take him along his travels until either he found his spiritual enlightenment or they find a good place to settle down. If need be, he could leave his wife after establishing a home and travel once more, send money back home. It wouldn’t be hard. He could even talk to some friends that could take the Lantern in to keep him company while Usagi was away, he could venture back a few times a year to be a proper husband for a few weeks before leaving once more. 

He was musing over different ideas of what to do when that soft voice spoke up, it felt like silk brushing up against his spine. 

“Donatello d’Alviano.”

Usagi stopped, eyes widening in wonder as the other’s accent showed his native tongue. It was… beautiful. He smiled and tried to repeat it.

“Dana…teryo di Aro… aro…bi ah…no.”

This time he said only his first name, slower, tilting his head back and exaggerating his mouth movements. At first Usagi was puzzled as to why he was doing that but caught on quickly that he was demonstrating the tongue and lip movements needed for saying his name.

“Don, a, tell, oh.”

“Don, a, te, ro. I like that name, it’s a pretty name. Donatero.”

“Low.”

Usagi quietly practiced the “L” sound under his breath as they continued on their way. The rest of the day his mind was preoccupied with trying to pronounce that pretty, pretty name that belonged to his pretty, pretty wife that he completely forgot what he had been thinking about before. 

It was an hour after nightfall that they found an old abandoned farm house to bed in. There was a cold draft that washed through the hut. Rain beat hard against the walls, dripping down in through holes in the roof. Usagi set his swords to the side and dug through the small pack of provisions he had brought with them. He was surprised when the glow of a fire filled the room, he smiled over his shoulder at his wife. Donatello crouched over on his hand and knees, the other holding the tails from his purple mask away from the flames as he blew on the tiny spark, encouraging it to lite the small pile of grasses and twigs. He honestly had no idea that Donatello had been collecting those. It said a lot about his character. He liked to be prepared. He was smart and he knew what he was doing.

They had a meager dinner, afterwards Usagi brought Donatello to him. Pulled him close so his shell faced the fire. He gently stroked his Lantern’s arm as he laid with his head resting in the palm of one hand. It didn’t take long for the both of them to drift off. Before he dozed he looked down to the one breathing softly against his chest. He brought his knuckles up to the other’s cheeks, brushing affectionately.

What was he going to do? He was dangerously close to falling in love with someone he barely knew.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dealing with a lot of depression and stress.  
> That's all.  
> Nothing huge, it's just my reason for writer's block.

Michelangelo felt the cold water start to prickle at the tips of his fingers with the warning of numbing as he scrubbed at the floor. The sleeves of his servant’s yukata were tied back in the traditional way he had been taught by the owners of the Lantern Market he had once been part of. His once soft hands were calloused. The soaps and waxes he had to use to keep the floors shine like mirrors stung in the cracks of his split dry skin. A part of him lemented about his treatment. He was once a great actor. He stood in front of a sea of green as he delivered unrivaled entertainment. Even after…

An image of Raphael flooded his mind. The blacksmith cursing as he tried to use tools he was unfamiliar with to carve wood. He’s face was contorted with frustration and anger that he couldn’t get it to bend to his will as he could with metal.

_“Think I should help him out?” Donnie’s voice came over to the side._

Mikey hesitated in his scrubbing. He sat back onto his feet and looked over to where he had heard the voice of his best friend. He could have sworn he had heard it, his native tongue in the tender voice of the turtle he had grown up beside. It had been so real he almost expected to see a spirit leaning up against the door frame of his home, Donatello’s eyes affectionate and even a bit jealous because for once Mikey was not in stride with him as they always had been. They had hatched on the same day only a few hours apart. Their Bearers had told them that they had taken their first steps, wobbling within their hands garbling out the fairy language of a baby’s tongue trying to get to one another. They had their lessons on the same day, first kisses within a week, then Donnie got his apprenticeship and close behind him was Mikey gaining his. They even had a double wedding, but Mikey was the only one that… He felt a lump in his throat. His chin wrinkled as he found himself wishing that he would indeed see his friend, his brother, right there beside him, that Donnie had finally died, that he would be at peace… that his own time would be limited in this twisted land. Instead he was greeted by the angered stomp of the man that owned him. He quickly turned his face down as to not be noticed and quickly grabbed the towel he had tucked under his obi. He mopped up the dirtied water, grabbed his scrub brush, threw it into the bucket beside him and scampered to the nearest wall. He gasped quietly when he saw he had left his bucket. Quickly he hurriedly grabbed it and pulled it with him to the wall. His shell would be peeled off if his Master had tripped upon it.

“A Lantern!!” The ninshin son of his master was shrieking. “The very one that you paid for! How dishonorable! How unseenly!! How-How-”

The three members of the high status family stopped close to Michelangelo. The Lantern kept his eyes to the floor seeing only their feet. His previous growing sorrow waned for a creeping fear. With how upset the favorite child was, Mikey was certain someone was going to get at least a lashing from the Ninshin. Last time that bloated tick was angry, Tomiko one of the few natives of this land Mikey could actually call friend, was sent to the monks for healing because the doctor could not help. Tomiko can't stand up straight now, permanently crouched to the side, the flesh on his back held together with thick scars. The sandy colored fur he once had now grows in gnarled patches looking sickly on his back.

“Disturbing.” The master’s heir had little to no emotion in his voice. 

Mikey felt his heart pound. The feeling of eyes settle on him was heavy and he silently prayed to Mother Mary to keep him safe. As much as he wanted the release of death he didn’t want to be tortured to the point of begging for it only to have it proclaimed as a reward.

“More!! It’s disgusting! One of us, laying with a Stone!! Father. Father! I demand you kill them. They have insulted you. A public execution is in order!!”

Michelangelo flinched, his fear fluttered within his stomach like the wings to an injured bird. A silent, unspeakable, desperation was growing. It told him to leave, get away before he was noticed by the wrong eyes. The strangeness of that emotion made him hesitate. If that little voice inside of him was telling him that he was being gazed upon and yet he does not want the wrong eyes to see him… who was looking at him? Against his better judgement he risked taking a peek up. His eyes met with the master's heir. His dark eyes resting upon the humble stone.

“I can’t.” The master growled. His large brown foot stomped to a stop in front of Mikey. 

This didn’t sound good, worse so, it meant that the master was going to be just as angry as his treasured child. When he was angry, anyone of the servants risked much with being within his sight. He had even boiled a kitchen servant for coming out of the kitchens in order to help serve a meal. This? He could easily beat a servant or two to death even when the one that had slighted him had been executed.

“What do you mean?” His heir was still dead in tone.

“He outplayed us! That is what I mean. Giving an honorable samurai a Lantern would have forced him into marriage. The only one worthy enough for his status is Hanako. That’s why I staged that damn bandit attack. It was why I gave him the Lantern! In order for that single man to continue to keep his honor intact he couldn’t refuse my gift and owning a Lantern without a wife or a ninshin sibling means dishonor as well, but him marrying his Lantern means that they are untouchable. His honor is intact because he has a wife now, and I can’t take my gift away because that accursed Lantern is now his wife!! It means I can’t execute him at all! He has not given me any dishonor.” He snorted out his anger. “We will have to find another way to get him under my power.”

“But Father, why do you need him?”

“My reasons are my own! You two leave me.” His eyes drifted down to the Lantern that was down on his hands and knees by the wall. “I need to be alone.”

Hanako huffed, turned on his heel and stormed down the hall. 

Michelangelo held down a scream when two large, brown, hands came down to grab at him. His Master threw him away from the wall, his face hitting against the hardwood floor. Bright white stars flashed across his vision as his Master told him in a gruff voice to hold still and remain quiet. The back of his yukata was being gathered up, pulled up away from his legs and his rear. The imposing form of his Master leaned over him making Mikey grit his teeth. He knew what was going to happen next. This filthy excuse for a man got out his frustration in many ways, all unsavory. Violation was one of his favorites, right next to beating the one he raped until they couldn’t see out of either eye.

“Father.”

“Saito, I told you to leave me!” In his frustration he threw down a fist hitting Michelangelo’s shell making the turtle choke on a pained yelp.

“You have mistresses to do this with, and laying with a Lantern in the open where Hanako can see, after what had just happened, he would kill a few of yours for retribution and cost you a lot of money.”

The bear snarled. He straightened out, his terrible gaze still on Michelangelo. 

“Then bring this one to my chambers tonight.” He sniffed while straightening out his clothing. Trying to regain his composure, Lord Yamato walked away as if he had not intended to force his dick into an unwilling body. 

Once he was gone, out of sight, Saito knelt down and gently started to sooth the fabric of the yukata back to where it was supposed to be.

“Work in the kitchen tonight. He will not want you in his bed if you smell of cooked eel and steamed rice.”

Saito stood up, offering his hand to help the Lantern. Mikey quivered from the anxiety of what had happened to him, uncertain to reach for the helping hand. After all, he had learned how to distrust in this land. He had learned how to lie, cheat, and steal. He had learned how to be selfish also how to use. And inside, deep down, was a voice that spat venom and it yelled at him to use, use this opportunity, use this man before he could use Mikey. So he took the man’s hand, allowed the lord to stand him up, gave into the poison inside when Saito looked deep into his eyes. He expected Saito to caress his cheek, to kiss him, to do anything except for walking away. Which he did, he walked away after whispering, “Remember, work in the kitchen.”

Mikey's blue gaze lingered on the bear's back and for the first time he saw how different from his father he truly was. Yes the same coloration but his build was slender and tall, a bean pole compared to Lord Yamato. His top knot haircut was well kept without it being overly groomed like his father's. He also carried himself with almost a sense of grace. Maybe it was Michelangelo's desperate need to preserve what little good was left for him that he noticed small things to amplify them in his mind. It was something he had to be careful of if he wanted to survive in the cutthroat culture of this land.

Though, he did as he was advised. He finished scrubbing the floor then reported to the kitchen. A withered old Ninshin screamed at the kitchen aids. He held a bamboo swatch in one clawed hand, the other was fisted and pressed against his bent back to try to relieve some of the perpetual pain he was undoubtedly experiencing. When any person lagged the swatch was brought down hard and fast to the arms, legs, and back. 

“And what are you here for?!” The old crone snapped when one glassy eye caught sight of Michelangelo. 

Mikey swallowed. He understood what was being said to him, but speaking this strange language was hard. He wasn’t like Donnie. Donnie was good with language, good with tools, and thinking of the future while Mikey… Mikey was thinking of the present. He wasn’t good with language or tools or planning. He was good at acting, at performing, at grabbing the attention of a thousand people, keeping them enraptured with his storytelling. So when it came to formulating words in the language of his captors. Each syllable fell hard or floated too light. He couldn’t remember words beyond titles and basic things such as food, water, sleep. 

“Lord Saito,” Okay, he got that much out. “F-food… wo… worrrk.”

The Ninshin rolled their eyes. “Why can’t the send someone that can say three words in a row without stumbling around and wasting time?!” He threw his arm to the side, pointing with his bamboo stick. “You’ll be working over there gutting fish and eel, after you fetch another rice barrel from the shed.”

Needless to say, Lord Yamato enjoyed suppressing his emotions with the consumption of food if he couldn’t rape a poor servant that caught his attention. Thankfully he was a stupid man. He could only focus on one person at a time or he would be grabbing any slave, Lantern, or servant he desired and would probably want to use them as a table as he fucked and ate at the same time. At least that was what Mikey was certain of. 

That was until Lord Saito came to him. The quiet tongued bear waited to be noticed as Mikey worked feverously. The gutted fish and eel were now his responsibility to season and cook to the instructions and scrutiny of the Head of the Kitchen. Another helper came over and spoke quietly that he was wanted somewhere else. Mikey, heart in his throat, looked to the entrance of the kitchen to see his Master’s son there to collect him.

Quietly the Lantern went to his fate. He silently followed his Master’s son out of the kitchen. Let his shoulders slump in defeat as they walked down the silent halls. He drew in a breath as Saito knocked on the wooden frame of the paper door. Lord Yamato’s loud voice demanded entry of his “treat for the evening”. Saito slid back the door. He nodded for Mikey to go in where the fat lord rested, splayed upon the floor like a bloated tick. 

The Lantern felt bile creep up the back of his throat upon seeing the bulge of an engorged penis under a white loincloth. He already knew the feeling of having sex with this man. He liked to have sex with any Lantern that was purchased or brought under his roof. He would lift his fatty stomach to slap down upon the back or stomach of his sex partner giving him enough room to penetrate as deep as he could into the body of his “partner”. He enjoyed pushing his massive weight onto the person nearly suffocating them as Yamato reached climax. The few times that Mikey had to endure this he had thrown up afterwards. It was disgusting to be sweated upon as you wince from the dryness of the sex. Have that thick, hot breath pet over his skin as a tongue rotten with lies and privilege lapped over his neck. Then the smell, whenever Yamato ejaculated his essence smelled foul almost as bad as fresh dung. After all that, there was the beatings. The horrible, terrible beatings… but Mikey had no choice, he had to do this act. 

He took a breath, squared his shoulders and walked past the threshold. The door slid quietly shut behind him. 

He came close to his Master and began to undress only to have the man make a sound of disgust. 

“Saito. SAITO!!”

The heir opened the door once more. “Yes, father?”

Yamato’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Bring me a different one. This one reeks of the kitchens. You know I can’t stand my toys to smell like food!!”

“Of course, father.” 

“And get this thing out of there! Have it washed!!” Yamato rolled around on the ground, the once prominent outline of his erection had died away.

Mikey blinked in amazement as he pulled at the shoulders of his yukata, trying to close them. A surprisingly gentle hand came to covered shell. He looked over to see Saito who ushered him outside. The son closed the door once more before he pointed down to where the bath house was his voice was loud so that Yamato could hear him. “Get washed up, you will have a long day tomorrow.”

The Lantern gaped. Did… did Lord Saito just do what he thought?

Saito quitted his voice so that only Mikey could hear him. “Tomorrow, work in the stables. He will forget what he wanted of you if he does not see you.”

All Mikey could do was bow. He wasn’t sure what happened, or was going to happen. All he truly knew was that if it kept him out of the reach of that monstrous excuse for a person that was his Master, he would take it, whatever “it” was.


End file.
